


Hetalia Seer Snippets

by A_Selkie_Abroad



Series: The Seer [2]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Again, BAMF America (Hetalia), Drabble Collection, Footnotes, Gen, Headcanon, Historical Hetalia, Hostage Situations, Human & Country Names Used, Library, Mistaken Identity, Original Character(s), Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Outsider, People actually think they have a chance against a Nation, Seerverse Hetalia, Terrorists, Warning: I like to go back and edit things constantly, an attempt at narrative continuity
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-12
Updated: 2020-11-19
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:42:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24147595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Selkie_Abroad/pseuds/A_Selkie_Abroad
Summary: A collection of plot-bunnies, drabbles and ficlets set in the Seer-Verse, where there are some humans who can see Nations for what they really are, and for some reason England keeps getting mistaken as an angel.
Series: The Seer [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1742584
Kudos: 37





	1. Jack had only even seen Alfred angry once.

**Author's Note:**

> This is also a semi-continuation of Layers on Layers (You Must be Angels), so Jack will pop up once in a while. 
> 
> Name changed from Hetalia Seer Drabbles because these snippets ain't exactly 100 words.
> 
> Snippet 1 - Jack had only even seen Alfred angry once.  
> Snippet 2- Jack wanders into Arthur's Library
> 
> Oh, FYI the "When all is lost, the Angel will come" Drabble was moved to it's own fic, since I don't think it fits here

Alfred didn’t _get_ mad. It was a fact of life, like gravity makes things fall, water flows downhill, and compasses point north. Alfred always seemed clueless or unaffected by things. 

Jack had only even seen Alfred angry once. The time strange people in dark clothes had come with guns to the orphanage, by exploding a hole in the west wing. They had told everyone to put their hands on their heads and sit on the floor. They had taken a camera and filmed themselves with a gun to Miss Blunnet’s head, threatening to kill her and the kids if Alfred and Arthur didn’t turn themselves in to them.

Alfred had arrived at the orphanage merely half a dozen minutes later.

Plane engines. Fire crackling. Screams echoing. Gunfire ringing out, sharp and sudden. A raging blaze, cutting through a pine forest like a scythe through grass, animals fleeing in terror. The snarling of a wolf, circling trapped prey. A tornado, wind shrieking, ripping apart houses, trees, and people alike, unfeeling and uncaring of who stood in it’s way. A blizzard, battering the landscape and swallowing up everything in it's wake in an impenetrable, choking, blinding white. Determination for compensation, an eye for an eye. Furious Alfred was vengeful, righteous anger and judgement and howling wind and sparks that burned the very air. Alfred’s fury promises retribution.  
  
Pray for those who incite Alfred’s wrath, for that is all you can do for them.


	2. An Angel's Library

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack sneaks into England's library and takes a look around

Jack loved the Angel’s house. He and his fellow orphans, as well as Mrs Blunnet, had been staying at the house ever since the west wing’s hallway was blown up- _No don’t think about it it’s over you’re safe you’re safe just breathe no ones screaming everyone is safe you’re okay-_ After the orphanage was temporarily closed. Jack had just snuck off from the rest of the children playing out in the grand gardens to come back inside because quite honestly, the house was his favourite place on earth. It was fascinating.

Well, at least the library was, it was one of the only rooms the Angel- _No wait he didn’t wan’t to be called that anymore-_ Mr Kirkland told them they couldn’t go into without him. An urge to explore it had been itching at him since Mr Kirkland took him inside to get a book of fairy tales to read to him and the others and actually raised his voice - he _never_ raised his voice- when Jack reached out to open a strange cabinet set into one of the walls, telling him to stop and back away immediately. He said sorry about yelling right after though, and Jack felt a bit less confused and more relieved about the whole ordeal when Mr Kirkland carefully explained that the cabinet contained something very dangerous and he didn’t want Jack getting hurt. 

There were now a set of chains with a padlock set over it now, which Mr Kirkland must have put there recently, and Jack noticed there were some gaps in the shelves now where some books had been taken out, to Jack’s chagrin.[[1](%E2%80%9C#note1%E2%80%9D)]

The library’s walls were absolutely stuffed with books, and although the whole affair was a singular room, it was so grand Jack really thought it ought to be called a hall. There was even a rickety spiral staircase that let people access a balcony-like second layer, which still had plenty of headspace due to how loftly the ceiling was. A series of bay windows with small seating areas tucked into them occupied one wall, making the space feel even bigger, and interspaced between them were yet more bookshelves, as well as a few glass-window cabinets that seemed to be holding scrolls. Sunlight streamed through the row of windows, sending great stripes of golden light across the wooden floor covered in plush rugs.

A grand circular stained glass window depicting a strange red-and-white flower emblem[[2](%E2%80%9C#note2%E2%80%9D)] was set in the far side of the hall - Jack figured that in the morning, the sun must shine through the big stained glass window and make pretty colours on the floor, just like the stained glass windows in the church down the road from the orphanage did.

Beneath the stained glass window was a grand fireplace, currently lit (it was always lit, Jack hadn’t once seen it extinguished) beneath it. Two suits of full armour flanked the fireplace, the symmetry one would expect from such an arrangement ruined by the armour being completely different in style from each other. Above the mantelpiece two crossed swords lay in a rack, and just like the armour they were completely different from each other, one a rapier and another more stereotypically sword-shaped, though Jack didn’t know the name for it. The wear on the handles spoke of previous use, and there were knicks and scratches in the armour; these weren’t just for show, they had been used, once upon a time.

There was a painting too, resting below the stained-glass window but above the swords. It was very big, certainly taller then Jack was, and had a thick intricate gold frame. Jack recognised Mr Kirkland, looking just a little bit younger then he was now, standing next to another man with shoulder-length blond hair. Jack also recognised what must have been a younger Uncle Alfred, who looked mildly annoyed, as if he didn’t want to be there. 

There were a lot of other people too, people Jack didn’t recognise, like the man with violently red hair and a kilt that had his arm slung over Mr Kirkland’s shoulders, and the many teenagers and children, all around Uncle Alfred’s age or younger, that surrounded Mr Kirkland and the other adults. They all wore quite frilly clothes with silly-looking hats, which made Jack giggle as he tried to imagine wearing something so stupid-looking. There was a signature in the corner, _F. Vargas,_ nearly hidden due to it being quite camouflaged amongst the drapery in the painting.[[3](%E2%80%9C#note3%E2%80%9D)]

The air in the library felt heavy and musty, as if the sheer amount of knowledge contained in the library was starting to leak into the air and making it denser. A low droning hum seemed to echo, just quiet enough to go unnoticed most of the time, around the grand room. The sunbeams from the windows illuminated suspended dust in the air- 

Wait.

No, that wasn’t just dust in the air. Jack cautiously approached, and reached out, trying to catch what were clearly tiny _letters_ , floating about the room, in his hand. They slipped through his fingers as if they weren’t even there. Jack gasped and giggled, trying to grab at them again, nearly tripping over his feet. Why were there letters in the air? Was it magic? Mr. Kirkland was an angel, so it was probably because of that. Who knows what weird things happen around real-life angels, after all?[[4](%E2%80%9C#note4%E2%80%9D)]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1 Arthur decided maybe leaving books on dangerous spells out in the open was maybe a Bad Idea and he should lock them away with the artifacts in the cabinet that have particularly nasty spells on them.  [ [return to text](%E2%80%9C#return1%E2%80%9D) ]
> 
> 2A tudor rose. [ [return to text](%E2%80%9C#return2%E2%80%9D) ]
> 
> 3Arthur asked Feliciano to paint this in the late 1800s. Francis and Arthur’s siblings ended up being there to England’s reluctant request - they were still family, even if Arthur got into quite a few fistfights with them. Alfred had to be physically dragged to the event, something his siblings still tease him about. [ [return to text](%E2%80%9C#return3%E2%80%9D) ]
> 
> 4The letters in the air instead of dust are a result of a spell gone wrong - someone broke in and stole a few of Arthur’s spellbooks a decade or so ago. Arthur tried to enchant the room into telling him what happened. It...didn’t work as planned. The newly sentient, enchanted library tried to communicate in a familiar way - with words and letters - but didn’t understand that Arthur needed them to be _next_ to each other, in an _order _, to be read. Poor library was just trying to help, not their fault England is a shoddy spellcaster! The books were recovered from Alfred, who had been trying to find a way to curse Ivan, only a few hours later. [ [return to text](%E2%80%9C#return4%E2%80%9D) ]__
> 
> _  
> _This is my first attempt to use html, so sorry if theres any weird formatting!_  
> _


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